


Another Card Lost in the Fire

by Eureka234



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Challenge Response, Cooking, F/M, Fluff, Light-Hearted, Romance, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 09:01:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8439538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eureka234/pseuds/Eureka234
Summary: The Herald decides a social outing is the best way to manage the stifled creativity of the Inquisition. If only she realized what effect it would have on Varric and Cassandra. Written for the October Reboot Challenge in the Fanfiction Writer's Group.





	1. Haven I

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer, I don't own any of these characters.
> 
> The original story, under a different name, got some flack from the Bioware forums back in the day... I'm re-writing it (again) for the October Reboot Challenge on the DA Fanfiction Writers group. The events will play out differently and it will be shorter. Thanks to bushviper for brainstorming with me on how to tweak it this time around.
> 
> The title was inspired from the song "Lost" by Gareth Emery (feat Janet Devlin).

Cassandra swirled the dregs in the bottom of her coffee mug, wishing it was her brain. If only she could think straight, and her thoughts could _move_ , they could come to a decision about the remaining Hasmal Templars and declare the War Council meeting over.

Leliana had been staring at the flicker of light from Josephine's clip board indefinitely, as though asleep with her eyes open.

No doubt, this room was once used to store crates and books, for how unwelcoming it was. Perhaps the candlelight stifled their thoughts.

Cullen traced a crack of his mug with a thumb.

The Herald crossed her arms the other way. Lips pouted, she was the most alert.

"How about…" Ellana began.

"Yes?" Cullen said, hopefully, like she was considering the alternative to burning him alive.

"No…" she changed her mind. "That won't work either."

Cullen sighed.

"What is it, Herald?" Josephine quipped.

With such youthful exuberance, Ellana looked very much a child. She slouched. "Do you think you could help with the relief efforts, Cullen? And… maybe we can divert _some_ of the lyrium."

"Excellent idea, your Grace," Josephine said. She wrote rapidly, "I will write to the Chantry in Hershel and with the Commander's assistance. I am certain their loyalties shall…t-turn to us."

"I hope so, Ambassador," Cullen remarked.

"I had another idea," Ellana said brightly.

"Oh. Yes?"

Josephine appeared afraid, perhaps dreading that the meeting was not yet over.

"Let's go to the tavern," she declared, "We've been cleaning non-stop for a week, and before I lose all my coin on something to repair my armour, I'd like to waste it on a drink or two."

"I think five drinks would be more suitable for you, Herald," Leliana said with a smile.

Why was celebration on the forefront of the Herald's mind? Surely having a glowing, green hand didn't mean her brain had somehow been affected? The elf didn't seem the type of person to regal. It seemed feckless.

It must be a joke.

"What?" Cassandra said, unamused.

All eyes turned on her.

Cullen laughed, "Cassandra… I can't believe you're making that face now. Your attitude is even worse than this morning, and I assure you, that was not a fair sight either."

"Thank you," she noted, hatred in her voice. If the decision was hers, she'd practice drills or write letters. Alcohol reminded her of the streets late at night in Grand Necropolis, where she'd spent her childhood, memories she'd rather elude. While she enjoyed wine from time to time, she had no desire for its bouquet tonight.

"I'll be very disappointed if you can't make it, Cassandra," Ellana posed with a knowing smile.

Disgust, contempt, feelings she knew all too well. The look in Leliana's eyes was unmistakable. The Spymaster wouldn't allow Cassandra to evade this social opportunity.

The table rattled as she slammed her mug down.

"Urg…"

* * *

Why do you never wear these dresses, Cassandra?" Leliana demanded, looking over one shoulder, then the other, like the mirror was playing a game with them. Her friend had adorned herself in a light blue dress. The carefree innocence the style radiated was a carefully placed lie.

Upon request (actually, pestering), Cassandra had hesitantly retrieved five such dresses from her tent, cramped at the very bottom of her belongings.

At least from the interior of Chantry quarters they could get changed without bumping their heads on the ceiling of a tent.

"So I do not have to listen to you, nor ruin the expensive fabrics while I train," Cassadra said.

It was only mildly serious, and she knew Leliana would interpret it that way.

"Oh yes, they are very expensive," she agreed. "Only a fool would sully them like that."

"Yes."

Was she that fool?

Silk cost a week's coin to repair if it was damaged, and she preferred to spend the currency on books.

Silence fell, where Cassandra couldn't decide if she felt more emotionally or physically uncomfortable in the violet gown.

"What about the black shoes? Cassandra, they are so beautiful!"

"I do not look forward to explaining to my uncle why they are putrid with alcohol and vomit the next I visit him - if he has not done something equally foolish in the past months."

"Ah." Leliana grinned. "You will not look pretty for the Commander, nor anyone, but your dear uncle? You lack a sense of pride about your appearance. I am so disappointed."

"You should be," Cassandra advised, "It is not like I will slice down a maleficar wearing such rare fabrics."

"Why do you keep these lovely clothes, if you do not wear them?"

Bustle - the scraping of chairs and voices - crossed the outside of the door. She looked down at the shoes delicately held between her friend's fingers, like they were made of gold.

There was only one type of person she was keeping these clothes for, a sole justification dust collected on the thread, and why she refused to part with them, even when she had limited space in her tent.

Cassandra desired to put on a dress, and subsequently, eventually, take it off, in the presence of a charming man who knew how to make her laugh.

The voices from the Chantry hall became louder.

They'd be an evening service soon. It was wise to leave.

"I do not know," Cassandra lied, and she pried them from Leliana's grasp, "though I will wear them tonight, for you alone, and no one else."

Leliana seemed pleased at the idea. She smiled smugly and assisted with closing the buckle on the black heels when Cassandra spent too long on them.

"Who knows? There might be a nice soldier in the tavern who thinks you are worth a conversation or his time."

Cassandra smiled, but she couldn't help but hold back a groan of indignation. If that miracle occurred, she had no doubt Leliana would squeal loud enough to rattle the ceiling.


	2. Haven II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1 originally did not exist, and this is chapter 3 of the original with a LOT of the dialogue changed. Thanks to my beta, Iamama23 (http://archiveofourown.org/users/Iamama23/pseuds/Iamama23)

Cassandra crossed her arms. The gown felt a little tight, leaving her exposed, almost ridiculous, but the Singing Maiden was not so louche. Had she gained muscle on the journey to Haven?

She wrapped her blouse further around herself.

 _This is Leliana's fault,_ she decided, annoyed. And worse, her friend was tardy, so there was no one to express her embarrassment to.

The bard was playing a jolly, upbeat tune, encouraging the vigorous dancing. Waiting for Leliana to arrive, and not being fond of dancing in these shoes, Cassandra picked up a cube of cranberry cheese and a slice of olive sourdough from the platter in the middle of the table and ate slowly to look occupied.

Moreover, why had Varric decided to sit next to her? Even _contemplating_ a friendly union was absurd. Though, she had to admit, the dwarf tended to enjoy outrageous things.

He sipped at a tankard of mead, beaming with the sort of glee only alcohol could provide, his crossbow on the seat to his right.

"Do you hear that, Seeker?" Varric mused, "as you eat, I can hear all this pent up sexual tension sizzling inside you."

His expression was mocking, derogatory, like his voice. Was it an attempt to get her to speak?

 _Is this his attempt to flirt with me?_ Cassandra wondered. Was he making a comment on her oppressed sexual nature in general? What would it mean either way?

That route of conversation was dangerous surrounded by Cullen, Josephine, the Iron Bull and Dorian, even if they were busy speaking amongst themselves.

An equally insulting reply was needed. She swallowed her food, hard.

"Did you make that sound with your drink, or from what remains of your lonely, unreachable brain?"

"To save my soul, head or both, I'll pretend you said 'hello'." Varric chuckled, bemused. "It's a wasted effort that my charm and half-intended jokes continue to be lost on you, Seeker. I was trying to be ironic. You're not the only one who doesn't warm to my sense of humour, so I'll let it slide. Just remember: don't be so hard on yourself. I'd rather a night of drinks didn't end with my head being cut off."

She averted her eyes. He may be a decent writer – yes, she _had_ read his tales - but he was not nearly as elegant in person.

If it was a joke, then it was a terrible one.

"I fail to understand how you could joke about such a thing, Varric – and for flattery, I have heard better from a stranger," she remarked, then suspiciously added, "I can't tell if you're lying or if the alcohol is making you more honest than usual. Please tell me you're just speculating for a new story of yours. If you are, I am not sure it has been edited rigorously enough for publication."

"A bit of everything, to be honest."

What was that supposed to mean?

"I…" Cassandra stuttered, thinking hard on how to respond. Varric was either going to take her replies seriously and continue with his behaviour, or think she was joking and continue with his behaviour. Either way, he would talk to her, which is what she didn't want. There seemed no way out.

"Pardon you," she finished, as if he'd sneezed. In reality, maybe he'd hiccupped and that's why those stupid words had come out of his mouth.

"Oh, you're being _polite_?" Varric hit his chest. "I'm completely unconscious, aren't I? I'm in a delirum from all the noise."

"That depends," she considered, "do you intend to behave intoxicated in your working hours or not?"

In reality, everyone knew the dwarf didn't _work_ , but stare at notes in front of his tent, and occasionally offer newcomers some directions on how to get to the Chantry or the tavern. For all she knew, when Ellana took him away to achieve objectives, he probably joked more times than saving any lives.

"Harsh, and bigger words than I expected from you, Seeker." Varric chuckled. "I only behave drunk when it is appropriate considering the context of the situation."

When exactly was it proper? Never.

"Urg…"

Strongly disagreeing, but not wishing to divulge details of why, and get into a debate so asinine, Cassandra's attention turned to the others at the table.

"I know your secret, Cullen," The Iron Bull said, in between a song. They had their arms around each other like fools. _This_ was why she never came here.

Cullen laughed, somewhat beside himself from wine, speaking loud to be overheard over the buzz, "What was that?"

"I've seen the way you go googly eyes at Ellana. You ain't fooling nobody – where is she?"

"Ellana!" Dorian called, to no avail.

Cullen seemed bashful, "I- I don't know what you mean."

"He means you've been battering your pretty eyelashes at each other, that's what he means." Dorian reiterated. Even the Tevinter did not sound eloquent when drunk, the fool. She never trusted him, anyway.

Were they implying the Herald and the Commander's conversations had an additional purpose? They did seem friendly, but… was it truly a romance?

Cullen covered his mouth a second too late from spitting part of his drink out. Whether from indignation or laughter, it was unclear.

"Sweet Maker. S-Sorry."

"You can't call yourself a man with that attitude," The Iron Bull said, "If you want to know what that's really called… a pussy."

Josephine, apparently taken aback, giggled and covered her mouth, but coyly avoided her gaze to pretend she hadn't heard. Cassandra couldn't help but smile as well, despite knowing the Commander to be more forthright than most. Their inferences couldn't be completely true.

"Or an asshole," Bull mentioned, as an afterthought, "depending on how nice you are."

"He's right, Curly," Varric jeered, "If you do like her, you really shouldn't get all flustered about it. That's like the basics of dating antics and… okay, shortened version, it makes your intentions _really_ obvious."

"A what, excuse me?" Cullen asked, still replying to Bull, "I happen to be Commander of the Inquisition, thank you very much."

Cassandra tried not to smile wider. _Now_ he was overcompensating.

"You're a very daft Commander, Cullen. Put some more cheer into your stride! It makes life a lot more fun. Now tell the truth about the Herald, won't you?" Dorian chimed.

"You boys are so different when out of your offices," Josephine said, with a half amused grin, "I do not know whether to be impressed or perhaps wishing these conversations could occur more frequently."

"I'll endorse bringing drinks to work, or anywhere, come to think of it," Varric said, and with a swipe he snatched her glass, "let me refill that for you."

"B… but I…"

Cassandra scowled. She'd half finished her wine, and she wasn't much in the mood for more.

He drifted away and no one noticed. Cullen, Dorian and The Iron Bull seemed to match Varric with loudness. By some miracle maybe they had surpassed him.

With limp posture, Cassandra let her arms collapse into a heap on the table. For a gathering the Herald had hosted, why was she so late? And WHERE was Leliana?

"We, uh… " Cullen mumbled, blushing furiously, "It is…um… a private matter."

"I heard her screams," The Iron Bull noted with a grin, "I know what you were doing."

Cassandra couldn't help but feel a little jealous. Screams? Why hadn't she heard them? This sounded like an incident Leliana would adore talking to her about. And also, did the Bull mean to imply he had stood outside the door with his ears up against it?

"Is that what that was?" Dorian asked, seeming a bit surprised, "I assumed someone had decided to murder those annoying children who threw snowballs at the windows five times a day. They stopped throwing them afterwards, in case no one else had noticed."

"Perhaps they witnessed it?" Josephine remarked, thoughtfully, which made Cullen blush more.

"Truth be told, I went to reprimand those silly children weeks before! To be… sufficiently prepared."

His words got quieter as he realized what he was saying.

Laughs went around the table in a wave.

"I knew we could get it out of you. See, he's not that bad." The Iron Bull chuckled. He clapped Cullen on the back. "I'm just messing with ya. I think you're alright."

"If the Herald was screaming, he was more than alright." Dorian shook Cullen by the shoulders. "Unless of course, it was attempted murder… but considering the alternative if I was the Inquisitor, I'd be jumping for joy around my quarters, I'd sing in the shower and cook Orleasian toast and put far too much butter on it."

"Do they eat Orleasian toast in Tevinter?" Cullen asked, trying to distract Dorian, "Or is butter a delicacy I missed in my Tevinter history readings?"

"STOP trying to change the subject!" Bull roared.

Cassandra secretly agreed.

Cullen's face fell, but by him leaning forward ashamed on the table, he had also caved in.

"To end your harrowing curiosity, yes," he said, hastily, "she was being pleasured to her wit's end, though I'll have you know, just so you're not jumping to mad conclusions, that she is also noisy in general. I was seconds away from stuffing something in her mouth. I shall remember to do so next time. I have no idea how she developed such a voice. She would have never gotten away with that in her Dalish camp."

"Don't worry, Curly, she was probably just being polite," Varric noted, returning beside Cassandra with a glass. By the scent, it was filled with mead now, not her favourite drink.

"Thank you," she lied, and drank it anyway, to avoid speaking to him.

"Perhaps it explains her ability to announce a meeting miles from the Chantry itself?" Josephine sumized.

From Cassandra's memories of Regalyan, and how much she personally hated any notion of faking orgasms, and wanting to defend Cullen, she added, "I have no doubt you were wonderful and considerate, Cullen." And with a dark look around the table, "If he was so hateful, she wouldn't have approached him for that purpose, as she has duties to think about first."

"I am inclined to agree, myself," Josephine noted with a small voice, the most calm out of everyone.

With shock, Cassandra put her glass down, and realized she had almost finished it. How did that happen? She'd wanted to avoid speaking to Varric. Was he to blame?

Flabbergasted, she caught Varric's gaze and he winked at her. He had such nerve… Was this a joke?

She turned away, feeling defiled… winking was… No, it was something else that upset her. Warmth filled her chest, not an effect of the drink. It was a flash of attraction, no doubt. It was the same as Regalyan, but any notion of that was irksome. How could she feel this way for… not just any man, but _Varric_!

The Maker must be toying with her.

Wanting to avoid her terrifying thoughts, paying no mind to the talk she had missed, Cassandra blurted out, "Where is Ellana?"

"Thank you. I'm relieved at least _one person_ has noticed our host is missing," Dorian said, "Does she go out of her way to avoid parties she's organized, or is this a special case?"

"I really wish my personal life wouldn't become this public." Cullen sighed. "Ellana doesn't have many tavern clothes so she approached Leliana for assistance. I… do not know why they are taking so long."

Cassandra growled. It _was_ Leliana's fault. When presented with outfits and shoes, she would always take more time than necessary.

"I am not surprised," she said grimly, as all the pieces fit together.

"Perhaps we should slow down with drinks," Josephine seemed uncertain, as she searched her satchel for coin, "I brought only enough coin for… goodness, it is …" she chuckled, "not wise for myself to purchase anything else."

The Ambassador hurriedly shut her coin purse, as though ashamed of its contents.

"You must tell me some gossip now of your own," Cullen said to Cassandra, finally calming down, "Real gossip… not snowballs at the windows nonsense. It would make me feel better."

Cassandra glared at Varric.

Did she _like_ his smile? Was she _turned on_ by the wink?

NO! It was a delusion brought on by the emotional turmoil of the conversation and the alcohol.

That was not interesting for the table to know.

That dwarf would probably invent many improbable accounts.

She had to beat him at it. Her head light, thoughts fluid, and the wink fresh in her mind, she exclaimed:

"How about the sullen detail that Varric wishes to court me?"

Surprise was spotted on every face, but Cassandra did not care. Her voice was too slurred, and her inhibitions destroyed. It did not even matter that perhaps it was a joke, a stupid remark, and a definite exaggeration.

The intention was to help Cullen. No one deserved the humiliation he was currently receiving, and if that meant turning the conversation on Varric, so the dwarfcouldn't humiliate anyone either, so be it.

Cullen mouthed thanks at Cassandra, and she gave an appreciative nod of understanding.

"No!" Dorian breathed, disbelieving.

"Is this true?"

 _Leliana's_ voice!

What kind of timing was that? Imploring for answers, Cassandra spun around. Sure enough, there was Leliana, in that same blue dress from earlier, and Ellana beside her, in an olive green dress that matched the vallaslin markings on her cheekbones. Their appearances wobbled as Cassandra struggled to sit straight.

Skipping hello, Ellana's opening line was to Varric: "Don't you adore your crossbow?"

Her voice morphed, as Iron Bull had said something similar at the exact moment.

Back at the table, the chaos had not stopped.

"Hello, Ellana!" Cullen said loudly, with a wave, "We missed you, very much, or perhaps that was just me – yes, probably just me – but it is a joy you've arrived. Take a seat. We were not talking about you at all, no gossiping in the least."

"Oh goodness," Josephine shook her head, caught between amusement and embarrassment.

Next, all eyes turned on Varric, who for a split second appeared like one of those fools who had been caught throwing snowballs at the Chantry windows.

Perhaps only Cassandra saw it, for he stretched out his hands in the way he always did before he told a story.

"Cassandra's just trying to embarrass me," he acknowledged, "she's not telling the truth."

"B-But…" Leliana started, "That other night in the…"

"Shhh!" Varric reached over to cover her mouth, nearly knocking Cassandra off her chair in the process, "We all know better than to listen to the shoe obsessed spy. Lying is in her nature."

"And yours as well," Cassandra said under her breath. She tried to glare at Leliana, but her friend averted her gaze. What was that comment about? Perhaps this was done deliberately – what did Leliana know that she didn't?

Maybe there was a way she could find out.

"You're the one who is embarrassed," Cassandra invented, "that's why you're trying to cover what evidence there is of it."

"Ok, there was the comment earlier, but I was just trying to make conversation. It's what I do, I like to exaggerate and embellish the facts, and you're very frigid in your presentation. That doesn't mean I _like_ you."

"This is getting too much for my liking, drunken conversation or not!" Cullen talked over the top of everyone, "I am almost ready to walk out the door. No, I am! Ellana, what are your plans now… y-y-you've arrived? You could take my seat?"

"You're going nowhere, pussy."

The Iron Bull held Cullen down in the chair with one hand.

Cullen sighed, "If I have not made it clear previously, by barely gracing your presence, I hate you."

The Iron Bull laughed, "No, you don't."

Varric was not going to get away with… whatever he did….

"Really?" Cassandra replied, sarcastically, "I didn't realize you made absurd comments about _sexual tension_ to every woman you encounter."

That got him. Varric raised a bewildered eyebrow, and then forced a grin. There was a second delay.

"Fair point, Seeker. Your observation skills are improving slowly."

Cassandra smiled, satisfied. Really, did he think she was going to be a talkative princess if she became intoxicated? Being in a line of royalty aside, she refused to succumb to such niceties with Varric.

"Varric, you certainly know how to confuse your audience," Josephine took a sip of her glass, "I cannot deny I am interested now, so I must know. Is Cassandra exaggerating?"

"What a feisty Seeker we have in the Inquisiton," Dorian laughed, "I had no idea there were any on this entire continent. They have such a reputation for seriousness, and that has only been confirmed by my adventures here so far. Are there any passionate men Seekers around here, Commander? And, I'd rethink what you told her, if it is true or not, Varric. I am not an expert, but I can't imagine women respond nicely to comments like that, uninvited. It _was_ uninvited, yes?"

"Yes," Cassandra confirmed.

"I'd rethink your statements, Varric."

"Please Bull, let go of me." Cullen urged, tugging to break free from Bull's grasp, looking like a child attempting to pull from a father's strictness.

Cassandra had to force herself to pull away from this amusing display, to focus on the main target of the advice.

"Trust me," Varric said, and it seemed his amusement was fading, "I already take all the care in the world, Sparkler, but, well, I don't know. I need to clear my head for about five hours," at Ellana, "Bright Eyes, I have inspiration for a chapter to write, so how about you and Nightengale take mine and Bianca's seats? We were all going to buy you a drink – I'll do it - what would you like?"

"Um…" Ellana frowned, apparently confused by the suggestion. Perhaps she didn't indulge in much alcohol, despite her clan being known for trading with the Free Marches, "Something…. Good?"

"Eh, I'll just ask… yeah, Flissa can translate," Varric finished awkwardly, meeting Cassandra's eye briefly. He grabbed his glass, Bianca, and wandered to the bar, which given the Singing Maiden was so small, wasn't very far.

"Oh my … Where is he going?" Josephine asked, watching him depart, "He is usually so ready to add light comments to…. And he…"

She fell silent, dumbstruck, but Leliana sauntered after him, her eyes cat-like and determined.

"I can take care of him."

She cannot murder in here!

"No, that is not necessary," Cassandra said immediately, only realizing the next morning that Leliana hadn't meant bloodshed. She rose from her chair as Ellana sat where Varric was moments ago. "This was my doing. It is my responsibility to fix it."

"An admirable attitude, Cassandra," Cullen praised her.

Yes, at least she could recognize her part of the blame in her drunkenness.

"I doubt it will take long."

For how annoying he was, Varric kept to the point with discussions… most of the time.

And so began the journey after the author of Hard in Hightown.

It was good she was taller than him, for she spotted his crossbow through the mountain of dimly lit heads.

The bard's words of 'Can you guide me / to the revolt inside of me' filled her ears. Deep laughs and shrill giggles of other patrons made Cullen's cry for help dissolve into the backdrop.

"No, Cassandra. Don't leave me with these mongrels!"

"I'm sorry, Cullen!" she shouted over her shoulder.

Dodging a pair of blondes, possibly siblings, dancing with locked arms, she tried to think on how to start the conversation.

 _Hello, Varric,_ she recited, internally, _I am sorry about humiliating you at the table, now do you mind explaining the meaning behind your comment?_

The clatter of heels and stomping of boots of the surroundings matched her heart. Why did she care about whether the comment was true or not? 

 _What could have offended him so irrevocably?_ She wondered.

These sentences swirled, unhelpfully, within her mind, and she approached Varric with two glasses in hand – one for Ellana and Lelina – and the crossbow upon his back. As he spun around to return to the table, he caught Cassandra's eye.

And stopped moving in his tracks.

The Tethras' blond hair appeared brown in the dark, and his eyebrows were even darker. What was that expression on his face? Bewilderment, or… no, it didn't make sense.

As startling as the sight was Cassandra didn't linger. She took the last few steps necessary so they could hear each other within the clamorous tavern, which meant they stood closer than normal.

"Here I was thinking you weren't the type to chase your losses, Seeker." Varric tried to smile. "Did you come for another drink… or maybe you just felt bad for that crazy display back there?"

Crazy? The only insane part of the ordeal was _his_ comment, and how he'd briskly eluded the conversation and suddenly wanted to leave.

Despite what she'd planned to express, something else came out, "Why are you avoiding me, Varric?"

Harshness wept into her voice, a weapon, something that could hurt. Hopefully, for once, the dwarf would not interpret it that way. 

Varric tensed. He looked here and there, "All the noise and accusations were really giving me a headache. I thought it was best to just…"

"I am amazed," Cassandra shot back, sharply. "You are not one to hate noise, nor complain of headaches."

They caught each other's gaze, with intentions of understanding and unmatched intensity in equal measure. There was no telling what else it was besides powerful. Half of Varric's face was shaded by the dark of the tavern, and… Anger started to leak into his expression, but he kept himself under control.

"What is your problem, Cassandra?" he demanded, "I did you a favour and paid for your drinks, and this is how you repay me?"

"' _This'_? Did what?" His feelings did not make sense, "You were the one who made such a thoughtless remark about me."

And he winked at her too, but she didn't want to pull _that_ into the mix.

Varric looked almost sad now, so Cassandra referred to her original conversation starter.

"Hello, Varric," she said, "I apologize for bringing your stupidity to light in front of… those other shits… but that does not excuse your rash departure, also… what did you mean to imply by… b-by the comment?

She was angry at herself for in her drunkenness saying 'hello, Varric' at the beginning. Also, she sounded stupid too, from jumping between angry and then desperate in one line.

The dwarf's gaze moved slightly to the side.

"It wasn't my smartest line," Varric said, calmly, "I… Actually, I can't answer you. It was probably just the alcohol talking. Usually I say things and think about them later."

Cassandra considered, and realizing they were holding up the line, the two moved further away, closer to the wall.

"I'm not really in the mood to think about it." Varric said, now calmer, "The fact Sparkler, Tiny, and… the entire Inquisition– now know about what I said, it makes me want to avoid any of their shit, especially the incoming jokes that will probably never leave me alone for the next month or two."

It was about the humiliation, fine, but… she still had so many questions. For one, did his statement have some truth, after all, and that was why he found it difficult to shoot the teasing down, like he usually would?

But Varric didn't want to think about it. There wouldn't be any explanation. Cassandra would have to manage the teasing about it later as well. Anger welled up in her throat, ready to burst.

"Maybe you should have considered the consequences more thoroughly before you chose _that_ comment to … say to me!"

Why was _she_ embarrassed? There was a difference between hatred and sexual tension… one of them required the person to find enjoyment in the other's company – and Varric usually annoyed her.

It was because of his wink.

_How…. Stupid!_

Now Cassandra felt annoyed at herself. The entirely wrong person had inspired a girlish flourish of excitement within her. Varric was an author of romance, Maker forbid he wasn't _allowed_ to be part of anything of that sort! And… Cassandra's eyes fell to his crossbow on his back… did the obsession with his weapon have anything to do with this? 

It took a while for the words to make their impact, and even longer for their effect to linger away. Some of the chattering surrounding them stifled. Cullen's soldiers turned to look.

They'd caused a scene. Wonderful.

The gentle plucks of the bard's lute sounded deranged and unnatural – like it was there to commemorate the deceased.

Cassandra's jaw stiffened.

Varric looked irked and tired. 

"Sorry for insulting you, Seeker," he said, quite honestly, "how about we just forget about it, like friends – well, maybe that's pushing it… _pretending to be_ friends?"

"I appreciate the apology, Varric," she said, stiffly. Friends? For some reason that did not seem like a fitting resolution. Something continued to annoy her, "You are still a fool for tempting me."

Wait… she wasn't supposed to have said that. It wasn't even _true_!

Varric didn't move for a moment. Then he said something she hated, "Did I hear what I just think I did, Seeker?"

Cassandra groaned, "Shit."


	3. Haven III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My internet was down so I decided to update this. It was written fairly quickly. I hope it is enjoyable.

The next morning was nothing short of humiliating. Perhaps worse, as it was confusing too. Cassandra had thought she could handle her liqueur with far more skill than what last night would suggest.

To her knowledge, nothing within the Inquisition required the kind of help Varric could provide, so she promptly avoided him. It was simple enough to spend the day in meetings. Her schedule dictated as much. Eventually, and miserably, the storyteller approached her as she paced to the chantry after lunch.

“I presume you’re still not jumping for joy at the thought of continuing our conversation from yesterday?”

Cassandra did not meet his eyes. “I wasn’t aware avoiding you had any other meaning, Varric.”

Varric chuckled. “Have you not heard of playing ‘hard to get’, Seeker?”

“I have,” Cassandra said, finally facing him. It was easier not to get flustered when she was angry at him. “Replace ‘hard to get’ with ‘impossible’ and your assumption is less absurd.”

Varric grinned wider at this. “By my ancestors…Are you _challenging_ me?”

The fool was using sarcasm, of course. Cassandra glared at him.

“I only challenge you to use common sense, Varric… and _leave me_.”

“You know I’m kidding, right?”

“Are you ever not joking about something?”

“Actually, yes. I merely tend not to use my serious voice most of the time.” He waited, as if maybe she would laugh. “I have enough sense to know you have better people to flirt with than me in your sober hours.”

To avoid the upcoming interrogation from anybody within the Inquisition, Cassandra sighed and took a detour, moving around a side of a building where no one seemed to like going.

“I do have a schedule,” she reminded him, “so please make it quick.”

Varric stopped in front of her, appearing uneasy. “I just wanted to ensure that you’re going to keep things between us what I am used to- mildly spiteful yet professional. I don’t want any hard feelings. I already have enough of a bad name in your book.”

“Yes, that is true,” Cassandra admitted. Her smile turned smug. “If I did perceive you more sourly than usual, what would you suggest we do?”

Varric’s eyebrows jumped in surprise. “That depends. Is there anything I can do to foster your abundance of good will? Besides never speaking to you again, of course.”

Cassandra pondered on this. “Perhaps.”

“Like what?”

  
“I will think about it,” she decided. “If you can move out of the way, I have a Haven visitor to speak to.”

* * *

Throughout the meeting she repeatedly became distracted by the multitude of possible ways she could annoy Varric. Not necessarily for revenge, just her own amusement. Thankfully if she blamed the concentration lapses on the hangover her colleagues believed her.

She found Varric in the main hall jotting notes in his book.

“Good afternoon,” she said.

“Has the Seeker finally noticed the storyteller, even if he is a lesser in her eyes?” Varric remarked, closing his notes.

“I may not like you although I have never seen you as lesser,” she explained, “I had a suggestion on how you could persuade me to forgive you for…” she hesitated, “mocking me yesterday.”

“I’m all ears,” Varric said.

Cassandra brought a finger to her chin. “First I would like to know something. I am curious if you can cook?”

“Do you mean can I cook something _you_ would consider edible or…?”

“No. I want to know _what_ you can cook.”

Varric put down his metal pen. “I grew up with my brother. He usually made someone else do the cooking. This was my mother when she could be bothered. Did I learn anything? ‘Yes’ would be a blatant lie. But I have been around taverns enough years to know that as long as you have some fat, water and fire, give or take the ingredients, you can figure it out from there. Why do you ask?”

“I wanted to know if you had any sense of resourcefulness,” Cassandra said, “You have impressed me.”

“Telling Hawke’s story wasn’t convincing enough for me to seem resourceful?”

“You exaggerated a lot of that story, Varric.”

“Only the details that didn’t matter.”

“I highly doubt every cave you entered looked the same, as you’ve claimed.”

“They might as well be. After a while they all blend together,” Varric said. “What should I do to earn your forgiveness? You haven’t said, exactly. Please don’t say  you want me to cook you a feast.”

“I may have been raised as royalty, but I have as much experience as you do not eating as one,” Cassandra said. She was feeling less irritated by the second. “I would like you to cook me one dish, only one, and buy me a drink if you can spare the coin.”

“Like doing yesterday over again? Well…” Varric looked uncertain. “You didn’t exactly treat me nicely the other night, either. How about this arrangement goes both ways? I’ll cook and buy you a drink, if you do the same.”

The Seeker’s eyes narrowed. Then she remembered that Varric wasn’t lying this time. _She_ was being stubborn and petty. Varric seemed to know because he smiled.

“Very well,” she conceded, “but we will have to discuss at another time when we will organize it, and any food preferences or allergies.”

“Deal,” Varric said. 


	4. Haven IV

“I still can’t believe I am cooking for you,” Varric said, sitting around a small fire he had started near his tent, “and I don’t understand why a meal was your first choice of suggestion.”

They had left a week in order to prepare, both mentally and physically. It was now evening. The sun was almost down and everything looked an icy blue from the overcast. Varric’s crossbow was placed to one side. He had a large pot over the fire.

“Partly, it is to repeat the other night more amicably,” Cassandra said, “and I also wanted to sate my own curiosity of whether your ability to cook without a recipe is all talk.”

Varric scratched his head. "I'll be honest I'm more for buying than cooking, but I can improvise when the situation requires it."

"Do you know how I can tell you're not lying?” Cassandra inquired with a smile, “because you are admitting to a personal flaw."

Varric rubbed his temples, distressed. “Yeah, I’ll let you have that, Seeker.”

Leliana overheard the conversation, as she always did. One of her spies was behind her, their face covered.

"Is Varric cooking?" she said excitedly. "I just love a good soup in this cold. Were you making some for others too, Varric? I can grab herbs from the gardens. I know just where they are growing in Haven."

Cassandra held out an arm. "I  _forbid_  you from helping him, Leliana."

Leliana looked disappointedly to Varric, then Cassandra.

“I don’t think you want to risk your good mood eating whatever this is going to be,” Varric said.

“Probably, yes,” Cassandra agreed.

"Only the Maker knows how to show Varric guidance in this situation," Leliana said. She looked to the sky as if the Maker had shown His face. “I will pray that you figure out what to cook soon.”

"Thank you for the inspiration, Leliana,” Cassandra answered, curtly.

She continued her walk towards the Chantry. When Leliana was out of earshot Varric sighed. "I want a drink but that won't help me think."

“Probably not,” Cassandra agreed. “If you are not perturbed by my asking, what _are_ you making?”

“A new recipe,” Varric said, cautiously. “I am combining two Haven staples, since I only have one pot.”

“Is that so?”

_He lied to Leliana then?_

“The chef told me the combination _should_ work,” Varric reassured her. “Beef and red wine stew with braised cabbage.”

Cassandra didn’t say anything. On one hand, she was impressed he was cooking meat and not just vegetables. Yet she couldn’t imagine how the combination could work.

She thought he might leave her to enjoy the silence. He did, for a time. Thought drifted to imagining she was about to go to sleep. It had been a long day. Five minutes after skewering a cube of meat from the stew and testing it, he announced, "Done. Dinner is ready, last in line to the throne," he gave a respectful nod of the head.

Snapping out of her stupor, she managed to say, “Thank you for your efforts.”

She wasn’t sure if she had ever thanked the storyteller for anything before.

“It’s way too fucking cold out here,” he continued, handing her a bowl and ladle, “Serve yourself and join me in the tent.”

As she served herself, he heard Varric carry his crossbow in first, and he waited. She looked over and saw the dwarf holding the flap of his tent open for her. Taking care not to spill everything, Cassandra crouched and moved inside, forgetting all decency.

The flap closed, and it was suddenly much darker. It would have been pitch black if it wasn't for the lantern Varric had placed by his sleeping bag. It cast an orange yellow hue over the ground and his belongings, like sitting around a camp fire. It was assuring. There was a peculiar intimacy that accompanied sharing the space a person slept in.  She waited for him to join her, and he did a few moments later with his own bowl of soup.

"If anyone asks, we were discussing new alliances to forge in the Hinterlands," Cassandra said hastily.

"Pff. You're worse at lying than me," Varric snorted. "That won't convince anyone. Just tell them you wanted to put me in my place."

"That is a much better idea." She ate a bite of stew. "Congratulations on cooking a novel meal. I have had much worse stews."

"I surprise even myself," Varric said with a grin. “Thank you, Seeker.”   

A 'thank you'. So simple but endearing. Somehow. Cassandra’s eyes fell to Varric’s bowl. It contained a quarter of what hers did. “Are you not hungry?”

Varric fidgeted uncomfortably. "I tried to cook enough for the both of us but I must have miscalculated," he said, "It took a fair amount of coin to purchase these ingredients from the chefs."

Cassandra stared at him in disbelief, "Then what will you eat?"

"I can drink. It’s not like I’ve never been hungry before.”  Varric grabbed a small bottle of wine from behind him and held it out. “This is left over from the stew broth. It’s half decent if you want me to save you some in a glass?”

"Enough." Cassandra shook her head. She ate a few more gulps of her food before holding it out. "Have some."

It was like he suspected she would poison him. Varric didn't move. He just stared at her, slightly dazed.

The dwarf's grey iris looked richer in the light. The rustle of villagers talking and bustling outside emphasized how quiet they were. Varric's regard finally lowered to the bowl.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, "I am offering you food. You should eat it. Give me yours in return if you wish."

Varric sighed. “That wasn’t the point of this…” he said, “but if you insist."

He placed his meal to the ground while they traded to avoid spillage. Cassandra was surprised by how innocent and steady Varric appeared as he did this, like he was captivated by the flame of his lantern. His expression soured the more he ate, and it only became clear once he had finished half the stew.

“I guess this means I forfeit?” he tested. “I should buy you something at the tavern to make up for my mistake. This is bad business on my part.”

“This is not supposed to be worrying,” Cassandra answered, finishing what Varric had served himself originally. "Would you like me to buy you something?"

"Seeker, don't be ridiculous." Varric waved a hand in disagreement. "I was meant to cook a meal for you. You should eat it in peace."

For once he seemed adamant and serious.

"I am not that heartless, Varric. It is true I asked you to cook for me, and I am very pleased you did. However, I would sleep more peacefully if you had an adequate amount to eat as well."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes, very sure. You forget about my Vigil in the Chantry."

Varric’s eyes went blank and his fingers twitched, as if they wanted to search for his crossbow. He did not turn to reach for it, however. The Seeker’s mind was wiped of all thoughts as she observed the curious expression. It was like he was captivated by her. That couldn’t be right.

Eating in a tent like this was strangely romantic. If this was one of Varric’s books the characters would probably kiss each other by now. It was a good thing she wasn’t one of his fictional victims.

"Point taken,” he said finally.

Cassandra felt flustered, then reminded herself that Varric couldn’t read her thoughts. He had no idea that she read his smutty books. And hopefully it would stay that way.

For some reason in a tired, weak, desperate part of her mind she wondered how she would have reacted if Varric did try something romantic here.

She frowned knowing what the answer would be.


	5. Haven V

A few days later Cassandra cooked with a fire placed next to Haven’s stone walls, to block the wind. It reminded her too much of her days traveling from one city to the next for her Seeker duties. Then again, a positive was that she didn’t need to hunt for any food.  Afterwards, she placed it on the desk of her quarters to stay warm and prepared dishes.

After what felt like too long, she approached Varric outside his tent.

“Varric,” she hissed.

“You’re asking for me? Aww,” Varric crooned.

“Urg. I have prepared our meal. It is in my quarters.”

“Your room, did you say?”

“Yes. I do not want Leliana interrupting us.”

Varric smiled. “I’m flattered. Let me get Bianca and we can go as a three.”

“Thank you.”

Varric continued their talk as they marched towards the Chantry. “I always thought it was unfair that yourself, Ruffles, Curly and Nightengale get proper rooms.”

“We arrived here first, Varric,” Cassandra said. “I don’t know what else you were expecting to happen.”

“I don’t know. Maybe we could trade now and then.”

Cassandra shook her head. “I don’t think the advisors are that generous.”

“Not even you?”

“Yes, not even me.”  

Lay sisters and scouts said hello to them as they entered the Chantry, but they did not stop to talk. She had found another chair so Varric could eat at her desk. Glasses full of ale sat next to their plates. Her room was small, designed for a lay sister, but it was comfortable.  

“There you go,” she said, lazily pulling out the chair.

“How kind of you,” he said, “I see Bianca doesn’t get a chair.”

Cassandra tried to make something up. “I didn’t want your crossbow to fall and injure itself.”

“Nah, she’s thicker skinned than that.” Varric took the ladle in his hand. “What did you burn- I mean cook?”

“Elderflower chicken,” Cassandra said. “I didn’t think it was fair to make anything simpler, considering the effort you invested.”

 _More like the coin_ , she corrected herself.

Sadly, these flowers were dried from summer as the winter Haven temperatures would have wilted them. The almonds weren’t crushed to the finest consistency, although Varric still found it palatable.

“The thought is appreciated, Seeker.”

They served their plates of steaming, coated chicken and did not speak for a few minutes.

“This food is pretty good. It’s nice not to eat the same few dishes day in and out.”

“Yes, it is pleasant,” Cassandra agreed. “Also, just for your own peace of mind, I do not feel any anger towards you.”

“Good. Then your plan worked.”

He appeared genuinely pleased about this. Cassandra smiled and stretched her legs out under the desk. "Your mood seems better than it was earlier.”

"Of course it is," he said. "Anyone can turn into a tight ass hanging around Chantry clerics and visiting businessmen."

"I feel the same about you," she replied, with a slight smile. She was, to her surprise, now joking.

Varric returned the grin and said wearily, "Yeah, I saw that coming. We're such a charming little pair, aren't we?"

“If that’s what you want to call it,” Cassandra said.

“We’re technically a three with Bianca here. I won’t complain about that,” Varric said.

“Your crossbow is a welcome addition.”

  
Silence passed. Cassandra wished she had cooked more so then they could talk for longer. Still, that would have cost coin she could be spending on other necessities.

“I would like to know something, Varric,” Cassandra said, half way through her meal.

“Yeah?”

“What is the story behind the name of your crossbow?” she asked.

“Haven’t you heard?” Varric asked, picking up more chicken with his fork.

“No. That is why I am asking.”

The dwarf chewed and swallowed his food before replying, “You’re not the only one who doesn’t know the details of that story, Seeker.”

He avoided her eye. Cassandra was stumped. “Do you mean that you do not tell anyone?”

“I can’t make it sound any good,” Varric said, taking a sip of his ale, “Besides, it’s not my favourite story. I can get few people, like myself, in trouble if too many know it.”

“I assume you were involved with some dangerous rebels then?”

“You could say that,” Varric said with a cynical look. “On that cheerful note, what’s the story behind your sword?”

“There isn’t one,” Cassandra said, grimly. “My best sword was given to me after my Seeker training. It was destroyed by a powerful mage. This is merely a replacement. I am probably sentimental for the old one, because the handle of this irritates me.”

“Everyone’s had to put up with a faulty handle at some point,” Varric jested. “Why so sentimental?”   


“Wouldn’t you be if your weapon was a reward for your years of training? That it represented what you had accomplished?”

“Yeah, good point,” Varric said. “I guess I haven’t received a weapon under those circumstances before.”

Cassandra gathered the plates and Varric held the drinks. They decided to finish the drinks in their own time.  

Cautiously they stepped out of her quarters… only to be faced with Josephine.

“Whoops, there’s a Ruffles,” Varric blurted out.

The ambassador’s hands flew to her face in shock.

"Oh my goodness!"

“Is something the matter?” Cassandra demanded.

“I merely wasn’t expecting that you would have company,” Josephine said, calming down, “I was just about to invite you to the dining hall, Cassandra, and it was startling that you opened the door just before I did, although I see that you’re –“

“We were just _eating_ , Ruffles,” Varric coaxed her, “and not the exciting kind of eating, either.”

  
“I… I did not think that it was,” Josephine stammered. She took a deep breath. “I apologize for my overreaction. I will leave you to your business.”

“Thank you for the offer, Josephine,” Cassandra said, “but it is not necessary. Perhaps another time?” 

 “Yes, of course.” Josephine stumbled with her words, so unlike her "Uh, I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening.”

She turned on her heel and eventually disappeared around a corner. Cassandra growled.

“What’s wrong, Seeker?” Varric asked.

“I do not want them to talk,” Cassandra muttered through gritted teeth.

“’Them’ being your team? It’s Ruffles, she’s not really the type,” Varric said, “Even if she was she already knows there was nothing worthy of gossip going on.”

Cassandra knew that the only person who would gossip under all circumstances was Leliana. And she had already interrogated Cassandra about why they were cooking together. She saw their reasoning of ‘to make amends’ as odd and didn’t entirely believe the story.

“It does not bother me,” she lied. “Thank you, Varric, for your patience. After we wash these dishes in melted snow I wish to go for a walk before sleeping.”

“Sounds good,” Varric said.

No matter how far she walked, the words ‘we’re a charming little pair, aren’t we?’ lingered in her mind.


End file.
